


Dried Petals

by You_Light_The_Sky



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Advent Children Spoilers, Angst, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Hanahaki as a metaphor for grief and depression and other things, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Original game spoilers, Probably ooc, Semi-Alternate Universe, Tifaweek, Translation Available, hanahaki, tifaweek2020, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Light_The_Sky/pseuds/You_Light_The_Sky
Summary: While Cloud is suffering from geostigma, Tifa’s Hanahaki disease takes a turn for the worse. Slight AU. Different interpretation of Hanahaki. COMPLETE.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 163
Kudos: 338





	1. Thorns

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt for Day 7 of Tifa Week 2020: Free Day – “Don’t put your eyes down. You’re not to blame. I know there are stories you can’t explain. But if I should find you black and blue and aching from crying, I’ll wait with you” – ‘Grow’ by Frances
> 
> I like the imagery of Hanahaki. It’s a fictional disease where you cough up flower petals (the flowers have different meanings to the person) if you suffer from unrequited love and in some variations you can die if you don’t have the flowers removed from your lungs/heart (again, depends on the version.) In some versions, the person loses the memory of that loved one if they undergo surgery to remove the flowers.
> 
> However, I don’t like the execution of Hanahaki. I don’t think it’s functional in a fantasy world because… damn, now we gotta shame everyone who didn’t return a person’s feelings. That’s a lot to unpack in terms of how that would change a society. I love reading Hanahaki fics for angst but in terms of world building and emotional whiplash, I think Hanahaki has a lot of problems. Hence, I decided to change it up a bit.
> 
> So welcome to my take on Hanahaki for Cloud and Tifa. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Chinese Translation by Alison [here](https://www.weibo.com/5461132449/J4iPTCwe4?from=page_1005055461132449_profile&wvr=6&mod=weibotime&type=comment#_rnd1592359593743)

**_Hanahaki_ ** _– a disease in which the soul seeds within a person’s heart begin to grow, slowly encasing the heart with thorns if that person has deep rooted feelings that they cannot express. Common in just about every heart and is manageable as long as the person regulates their feelings. Stage 2 Hanahaki Disease, where thorns encase the heart, is commonly known as the ‘sleeper agent’ disease, relatively harmless. Can become lethal if the person’s feelings begin to take deeper root within their heart, if the thorns sprout into flowers and the victim begins coughing up flower petals in Stage 3. The larger the flowers and the more frequent the coughs and the blood, the less chance the victim has to recover, growing weaker and weaker into Stage 4. Surgery must be performed at this point otherwise the victim will die. Currently, the survival rate of Stage 4 Hanahaki disease after surgery is 10%._

Excerpt from the _Encyclopedia of Gaia’s Strangest Diseases_ found in Shinra’s archives

:

Mama died alone in the bathtub, surrounded by bloodied and dried deep purple petunia petals crushed from the stem. Tifa was the first to find her. She remembers shaking her mother’s body over and over, convinced that this cold thing could not be her mother, who was always smiling and patient. She remembers thinking that the deep purple flowers around her mother’s mouth didn’t suit her at all. The colour was a stain on her mother’s face, more hateful than blood.

“Hanahaki,” the local doctor said later, after Papa came home and howled with pain at the body, scooping it up and rushing it towards the clinic. “She had Stage 4 Hanahaki.”

“No,” Papa shook his head over and over again. “She was happy, sure she got tired from time to time, but she had nothing to be sad about. I _loved_ her. Why didn’t she say anything?”

The doctor looked at Papa and Tifa with pity. “It’s not a matter of loving someone with Hanahaki or not. It’s a matter of how they feel and how they deal with their feelings—”

“Are you saying it was her fault?! That she _let herself die—_ ”

“Mr. Lockhart, please that’s not what I mean at all, just listen—”

Three men had to drag Papa out of the clinic and towards the nearest bar. Papa changed after that. He acted the perfect father around Tifa, but with everyone else, he was distrustful, rude, and loud.

“Everyone lies, Tifa. But you’ll never lie to me,” he stroked her hair. “You’ll always tell me how you feel, won’t you?”

Tifa remembers eyeing the liquor bottles suspiciously, angry that those bottles made her Papa like this. But she nodded for him, because it was what he wanted.

“Good,” his breath stank of alcohol. “You’re my good girl.”

Later, Tifa would look up the meaning of petunias, the ones in that revolting deep purple that seem to ooze pain. _Resentment, hatred_ , that’s what the book said. Tifa shivered and wondered if it was Papa who Mama hated so much, and how Mama survived with a smile.

:

As the years passed, Tifa avoided the colour purple. She still loved the smell of flowers but petunias made her want to puke. She learned to mix the best drinks for her Dad, so that he’d be addicted to _her_ drinks, not the bar’s, and she learned to limit how much he drank. She learned that alcohol could make any soul spill all their secrets and such, this poison ironically halts the progress of Hanahaki. She learned that most people only drank because they had no one to talk to and that a bartender with a willing ear can be a bandage for the soul.

Some people had Hanahaki because of unrequited love, others because they couldn’t tell the truth about their previous sins, some wanted to express their true selves in front of their families but never could. The list of unspoken things was endless.

She learned to fight, to smile, to pep-talk herself into thinking positively. She’d whisper all of her darkest secrets to the mirror and play her heart out on the piano. She’d punch things when she felt angry, anything to will away any thorns on her heart.

She’d look into the mirror, wondering what her heart looks like, wondering if her soul seeds had become thorns, waiting to bloom. All her heartaches, missing Cloud, disappointing her Dad, were they from tightening vines, from budding flowers?

“My name is Tifa Lockhart,” she’d whisper to the mirror, “I’m scared about the future, I’m angry at my dad but I still love him, and I’m going to be okay.”

All these truths about herself, all her anxieties, she’d whisper them then, set them free into the air.

She refuses to follow her mother in death.

:

When Nibelheim burns, Tifa burns too, wanting vengeance. When Marlene smiles, Tifa smiles too, something inside her eased and better. When Barret looks worn, Tifa becomes worn too, doing her best to sooth the silence.

And then she meets Cloud again, and for the first time in years, her heart feels lighter… only to twist painfully at the unfamiliar way he looks at her, at the strange things he says.

Cloud’s hurting, she realizes, and like she always does… she tries to fix it.

:

Sector Seven falls.

Jenova is free.

Nibelheim fills with lies.

Aerith dies.

Cloud falters.

Sephiroth steals everything.

They lose Cloud.

The lifestream.

The meteor.

The distance.

These tragedies haven’t killed her yet, she hasn’t coughed up a single flower. But _Gaia,_ her heart aches.

Still, she smiles for those who need it.

:

She remembers when the journey began, just after they left Kalm to chase after Sephiroth, a night by the fire. She remembers Cloud coughing quietly into his hand, then frowning, before he crumpled that hand up into a fist and walked away to take the first watch. She remembers seeing the frayed yellow petal peeking from his fist.

When everyone else fell asleep, Tifa tiptoed over to his side, where he sat alone on a hill.

He didn’t react at all to her presence, save for a slight relaxing of his shoulders.

Tifa was quiet at first, but slowly she reached out and touched his fist, coaxing them to open. The ripped up sunflower petals greeted her.

He didn’t say anything, watching her, his eyes slightly aglow with mako.

“How long have you been at Stage 3?”

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I deal with this a lot being a bartender.” Or, she _did_. “Lots of customers come in with Stage 3. I have to mop up a lot of petals. Luckily, if they drink enough, they start ranting… and after they rant… they get better. And then they’re alcoholics instead.”

“Better than dying.”

“Everyone’s dying, Cloud,” Tifa whispered. She had a feeling that the planet was too. “It’s just a matter of how we avoid it, and how we add meaning to it.”

“Is that what you do then? Give them meaning?”

Tifa shook her head. She wasn’t that deluded (she still isn’t.) “I think I just make them a little less lonely, even if I can’t stop them from drinking. That has to be enough.”

But is it? She has her doubts sometimes.

“It is.”

She looked at him in surprise.

His eyes didn’t move from hers. “If it’s from you, it’s enough.”

Frozen by his gaze, Tifa didn’t know what to say. She dropped her head down quickly, but let her hand stay on his.

“So?” she asked, “What’s making your heart tear itself apart? Why are you coughing up flowers?”

What happened to Cloud in the past seven years? What could cause him so much pain?

He tightened his hand over hers, a grip that could stop her blood flow. “I… I don’t know.”

Tifa frowned. “That’s common. Sometimes my customers don’t— _didn’t_ —know what was causing Stage 3 either, so they’d talk about everything until it stopped.”

“There’s… there’s a lot I don’t remember.”

Her heart twisted. Ever since Cloud recounted his encounter with Sephiroth at Nibelheim, Tifa had suspected that much. But she still wasn’t sure. She had suffered a bad concussion and internal bleeding that day… perhaps she remembered the Nibelheim incident all wrong. She’d hate to start a discussion without being 100% sure of herself, that could hurt him more.

Instead…

“…Talk to me,” she said, to his surprise, “whenever you have a free moment and you’re stressed out. It doesn’t have to be about your memories. It can be about anything that bothers you, any pet peeve—”

“Like Barret’s snoring?”

She smiled. “Like Barret’s snoring. It all helps. As long as it doesn’t get to Stage 4, it’s manageable. We’ll figure things out. I’ll help you remember.”

He looked away from her, his other arm rubbing the back of his neck like he used to when he felt shy. “I’ll… try. But only when we’re alone.”

Tifa nodded. “That’s enough then.”

She prayed it would be enough.

:

During their journey, Cloud didn’t talk to her about his feelings. But he’d wake her during his watch and have her sit with him, he’d make sure to be there for her watch, and they’d just sit side by side.

Sometimes Cloud would complain about Barret or Yuffie or Cid or Tifa would remark that Cloud had made a good decision that day. The one thing he’d always tell her, without fail, is if he coughed up any petals that day. Tifa kept track, noticed that there were only a lot when Cloud encountered something painful like Sephiroth, but otherwise, the petals were rather infrequent.

These little talks, these quiet moments under the stars, they seemed like nothing.

But she hoped they meant _something_.

:

He fell to his knees on their second visit to Shinra mansion, after the Mideel and the lifestream, after remembering Zack, and he cried.

‘Admiration.’ ‘Loyalty.’ ‘A long life.’

 _Ah_ , Tifa thought, deciphering the meaning as tears escaped her eyes, _those sunflowers were for Zack_.

Cloud never coughed them up again.

:

“I can feel them,” he whispered, just before their night under the Highwind, before she asked him to hold her, before he kissed her as if she might break apart from the slightest touch, “the thorns are still there.”

“Stage 2,” she leaned against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat under the strain. “I think we all have it, deep down. We all have thorns.”

His grip tightened around her waist. “…Even you?”

She didn’t answer.

:

After Sephiroth, after the meteor, after building up Edge, after opening the new Seventh Heaven, after adopting Marlene and Denzel, Tifa almost feels truly happy.

Then Cloud pulls away.

:

He leaves a note, because he doesn’t want her to worry, because he has to fight something alone, because the last thing he ever wants is to hurt her.

:

 _But_ , she thinks, _you’re still hurting me._

:

Two months later, Tifa coughs up her first flower.


	2. Lilies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback and giving this story a chance! I'm not very good with Advent Children characterization because it's been... a while. But thank you for reading anyways :) Last update will be Saturday.

_Why does a majority of the population suffer from Stage 2 and Stage 3 Hanahaki disease? Why do the soul seeds grow and fester into thorns around our hearts? Is it the planet’s way of forcing us to confront our inner demons? Our greatest fears and weaknesses? Or is it the punishment we must bear for abandoning the Cetra, for poisoning the planet with Mako? As I await my final days, such beautiful white lilies have sprung from my lips… I’ll join her soon…_

-from the journals of Doctor Gast, recorded shortly before his death

:

When she was still alive, Aerith loved taking Tifa’s hand so she could giddily show her the new flowers they encountered along their journey. Wild poppies of red, dandelions with their wispy white tuffs, white daisies with their cheerful yellow centers, lotuses floating in Wutai’s ponds—all of them fleeting glimpses of the planet’s beauty, still surviving despite the mako drain.

“It’s just like home,” Aerith would sigh. “But better. There are so many varieties, I can’t even name them all!”

“What kind of flowers do you grow at your church?” Tifa had asked. She remembered the flower Cloud gave her, the one he bought from Aerith. She had tried her best to keep it alive, but again Shinra took that beauty away…

“Hmmm… as many as I can find! Mostly daisies, some peonies, oh, and white lilies,” Aerith had winked at her, “like the one Cloud gave you.”

Tifa had blushed, remembering the meaning of the white lily quite clearly. _Lovers give these to each other when they’re reunited._

“We’re not like that.”

Aerith had studied her carefully. “But you want to be.”

Watching the tuffs of dandelions fly away like puffs of white cotton against the sky, Tifa had smiled. She didn’t know what kind of smile it was, but in front of Aerith, she felt she could show a little of herself. “It doesn’t matter. I want him to be happy first, that’s more important.”

Besides, they had a planet to save, a madman to kill, sins to be redeemed.

Aerith’s hands had become tight around hers. “But Tifa,” she had insisted. “ _You’re_ important too.”

Startled, for no one had really said that to her before, Tifa felt her mouth go dry. “Thank you, Aerith… I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Aerith lightly tugged Tifa’s hair. “You better!” she had laughed. “Or I’ll come after whoever makes you sad!”

:

Now, Tifa stares at the white petals, all bloodied in the bathroom sink, at the familiar shape of them. _White lilies_ , she thinks, _for reunion_. Her eyes scan the other two petals, one yellow, one black. _Sunflowers_ , _for Aerith_. _Black roses,_ her heart sinks, _for death._

“I…” she looks wildly at the mirror, at this woman with pale skin and sunken eyes. How long has it been since she really looked at herself? Her figure has changed, become more hollow, more thin, nothing like the build she had before. “I’m… upset,” she tries to say, the way she used to when she was younger, to chase the thorns away.

But what right does she have to be upset when she’s responsible for so many dying in Sector Seven? What right does she have to be upset about Aerith’s death when she couldn’t stop it? What right does she have to be upset when Cloud never promised he’d stay?

“I’m upset,” she says again, hoping this is the unspoken thing that needs to be said, “but I’ll get through this. I always do.”

The next morning, she coughs up more white petals, more black and yellow, stained in red.

Her hands shake.

:

“I love you both _so_ much,” Tifa starts to say every time she tucks Marlene and Denzel in. “You’re both so brave and kind, you are the best parts of my life.”

Marlene always coos with delight, jumping up to hug Tifa with her own chorus of _I love you_ ’s.

Denzel always ducks his head down, burying himself in his blanket, but Tifa hears his quiet, “I love you,” too.

“I liked how you helped me out in the kitchen today, Marlene,” Tifa begins, “you did a great job of setting up the kitchen. Denzel, you did a wonderful job at chasing off those bullies away from Marlene at school. I’m so proud of you for getting through the day.”

“I think you did an _amazing_ job with dinner today, Tifa! I loved dessert! And Denzel got an A on his math test today, he was just too shy to show you!”

“Was not!”

Tifa doesn’t bother hiding her smile. “Did you, Denzel? You must have worked so hard to get that grade, that’s wonderful!” She sits by him, stroking his hair, anything to show him that she’s not afraid of his geostigma, that people won’t shun him for this.

(After all, how can she be afraid when she’s got her own disease to worry about?)

“Well… Marlene got picked to be the class leader, so that’s pretty good, I guess,” Denzel mumbles, cuddling closer to Tifa’s hand. “And… you… Tifa… you’re…” He sulks into his blanket with an even quieter mumble.

“He thinks you’re nice, Tifa! See? I told you Tifa’s the best!” Marlene chirps.

Going red, Denzel scowls, “I said she tells the best stories!”

Her heart warms at how embarrassed he is. The petals crawling up her throat abide, just for the moment. They’re not allowed to emerge when she’s with them.

“…Thank you,” she whispers, kissing them both on the head, “that means a lot to me.”

She has to stay alive for them, say vibrant for them. That means she has to tell them everything she feels, she can’t just smile and pat their heads anymore (though she’s sure that helps), she needs to let them know that they’re loved. Nothing dear can be left unsaid.

If she doesn’t beat this, then they’ll need good memories of her.

(She wonders if this is how her mother felt before she died.)

:

Six months after Cloud leaves, Tifa coughs up her first whole flower, a fully blossomed white lily, and she feels nothing but numb.

“Stage four,” she whispers.

No, not quite. She can still beat this. She hasn’t fainted or felt too weak like others who reach the point of no return. It’s just one whole flower, there’s not even that much blood. Stage 4 is only truly dangerous when the frequency of whole flowers is several times a day, with severe blood loss and fainting. She can hold out.

Still, she begins looking up doctors for Hanahaki surgery… and writing up her will.

:

_Barret,_

_You have been my closest friend and a rock ever since I became an orphan. I want you to know that this isn’t your fault. You_ saved _me, Barret, you and Marlene. If I hadn’t had you both when I first came to Midgar… I don’t know where I’d be. But you both gave me so much light, so much meaning… you made life worth fighting for._

_I know you’ll take care of Marlene. Tell her that I’m sorry I won’t get to see her grow up into the strong woman I know she’ll be. If you can, please take care of Denzel too. He’ll need someone and I don’t want him to be separated from Marlene. She’s good for him._

_I’m giving the bar to you. Turn it into an inn, hire people to manage it so you can make extra money for Marlene and Denzel’s schooling._

_And please, remember that you saved me._

:

After the doctor finishes checking Denzel’s markings and temperature, he turns to Tifa with approval. Gesturing for her to speak with him privately, Tifa leads him to the kitchen, telling Marlene to keep Denzel company.

“Denzel’s geostigma has slowed almost to a halt,” the doctor tells her in wonder. “Whatever you’re doing to keep his spirits up, it’s working. He’ll hold out a lot longer now… hopefully a cure might be found in time…”

Tifa thinks of the nightly ‘Complimenting Sessions’ that she started with the kids and how much more they smile, even when Denzel has his bad days. Her eyes shimmer with relief.

_Just keep holding on Denzel…_

“That’s wonderful, Doctor. Actually, I was hoping that you could do another check-up…”

“Ah, yes, for Marlene? Our last check up was only last month, unless she has—”

“No, she’s fine. She doesn’t have geostigma. It’s… it’s me, actually.”

The doctor’s eyes widen. “Geo—”

She pulls out a clear plastic bag with this morning’s bloody lilies and black roses. “Hanahaki, actually.”

The doctor has to sit down.

:

_Nanaki,_

_Throughout our journey, you’ve always acted so strong despite being so young. I’ve always admired your kind soul and the way you keep trying._

_If you could, please look after my mother’s earrings. They’re all I have of her, and I can’t think of anyone better to guard her memory than you, my dear friend, the way you’ve guarded Seto’s._

_I know you’ll keep being brave._

:

“Miss Lockhart…” the doctor murmurs, “have you experienced any other symptoms? Fainting? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

“No. Just… coughing in the morning… flowers in the sink.” She can’t stop looking at that crumpled and soggy white lily, soiled in blood.

“Then it’s not too late to turn things around. You aren’t quite at Stage 4 yet—”

Tifa’s shoulders relax. That’s what she thought.

“—But as soon as your symptoms begin to worsen, we should consider surgery. Do you know the risks of Hanahaki surgery?”

“I know not many survive.”

The numbers had not been encouraging to her. But if anyone could survive, it’s her.

“But there’s more… the uglier part that patients rarely talk about.”

Tifa frowns. “What do you mean?”

The doctor is wary, his kind old eyes looking at her with pity. “Soul seeds are a part of us, they are expressions of the heart. Remove them and… you lose the ability to feel.”

She feels as if she’s been dipped into the coldest glacier and told that she can never come out. “Why haven’t I heard of this?”

“Not many people reach Stage 4, and when they do, some of them recover without needing surgery. Those that survive surgery… they don’t know any better that they’ve changed. They don’t much care for anything at all.”

What would that be like? Not to care about anything? Not to love or hate or _hurt_?

“Knowing that,” the doctor continues, “do you want to consider surgery?”

:

_Yuffie,_

_You’re like the little sister I never had. You always made me laugh, and honestly I thought some of your pickpocketing victims deserved it. But I hope you get to find the balance between being you, and being the White Rose of Wutai, I hope you grow to be a splendid ninja that people will pass on stories about._

_Please take my gloves, and the scrolls Master Zangan left me. If anyone can pick up his style and perfect it after I’m gone, it’s you._

_Please use them to protect the ones you love and pass them on to the next generation of ninjas. And always always use your strength to protect._

:

Tifa goes to visit one of the survivors of Hanahaki surgery, under the advice of her doctor, on a weekend. She knocks on Tabby Lyre’s door and doesn’t quite know what kind of person to expect at the door.

A blank faced older woman with empty eyes greets her. Tabby’s beautiful with golden hair that men would whistle at and a figure that most would covet. But her beauty is eerie when accompanied by that empty stare.

“…I heard from the doc that you’re visiting. Come inside. Sit.”

Tifa quietly does as she’s told.

Tabby doesn’t offer tea or any other niceties. She just stares. “So, you wanted answers?”

“Ah yes, sorry for the trouble…”

“I don’t really care either way.”

“…Right,” Tifa frowns. “I was just wondering… how you went back to your life after the surgery, how it affected you.”

“It didn’t really affect me. I can eat, sleep, go to work as sufficient as before. I’m alive,” Tabby says.

“What about your family? Are they still with you?”

“They left.”

Tifa’s eyes grow wide. “I’m so sorry—”

“It doesn’t really matter. I tried to act like ‘before,’ the old Tabby. But it wasn’t working. They could sense it. So they left.”

Tifa can’t imagine that, not feeling anything if Cloud, Denzel, or Marlene left her. “Don’t you miss them?”

Tabby’s gaze doesn’t change.

“Not at all.”

:

_Reeve,_

_I’ve never thanked you enough for helping us, for turning against Shinra. I know you still feel guilty over all the lives that were lost, over what Rufus and his father did. But you’ve honestly done so much for the world, I hope you let yourself see that one day._

_Both you and Cait Sith are the friends that I never quite expected but am so grateful to have. No matter what people say about you, Reeve, you’re a good man._

_I leave you my collection of books, I hope that you can take a break once in a while and escape into fiction for a while. I hope those books give you joy._

_And if a cure for geostigma is ever found, please consider giving Denzel one of the first batches. Please forgive my selfishness for this request._

_You’ve always been a good man._

:

“So?” the doctor asks when Tifa stumbles out of Tabby Lyre’s home.

“She… she’s not herself anymore,” even if Tifa didn’t know her before, she can tell. Something fundamentally human has left Tabby, forever.

The doctor says nothing.

“I’m… I’m going to try to fight it, for as long as I can. But if I reach Stage 4… I want to live and die as myself.”

The old doctor, used to this answer, can only nod yes.

:

_Vincent,_

_To be honest, when I first met you, I didn’t know what to think. But as our journey continued, I realized that while you might be stand-offish, you’ll do anything for your friends._

_I always appreciated how you looked out for me when Cloud disappeared (before we found him in Mideel) and I appreciate you dropping in to check on the bar in the past few months. I hope you’ll continue to watch out for Marlene and Denzel when I’m gone._

_I also hope that you can forgive yourself one day, even though I never really forgave myself either._

_Please take my photos of our friends. I think you could use more keepsakes, more reasons to smile. I hope those photos stay good memories for you to counteract against the bad._

:

Tifa starts calling her friends more often, just to memorize their voices. She tells them how much she misses them and appreciates them, laughing at Barret’s bashful replies, at Yuffie’s smug declarations, Nanaki’s sincere gratitude, Cid’s gruff mumbles, Reeve’s relieved voice and Vincent’s occasional visits.

Her voice messages to Cloud continue, becoming shorter and shorter.

The whole flowers begin showing up every other morning instead of every three days. Tifa grips the sink so hard, she bleeds.

“I’m not going to die of heartbreak,” she tells the mirror, “that’s not how I want to go.”

Besides, she’s told the mirror so many times that she loves Cloud. That’s not what’s unspoken. Everyone knows how she feels… maybe that’s why Cloud ran away… maybe he feels constrained by her feelings.

No, no, that’s not what his note said.

(Still, she doubts.)

(She hates that she doubts.)

She closes her eyes, breathes in and out.

“For Denzel and Marlene,” she whispers. “ _For Denzel and Marlene._ ”

:

_Cid,_

_Thank you for everything you did when I wasn’t strong enough, for leading the team and finding the huge materia, for rescuing me and Barret when we were going to be executed. Thank you for calling to check on the kids, to complain about Cloud for me._

_Take care of Shera. I’m so sorry I won’t be able to see the new baby._

_I knitted a blanket for them and some clothes. I hope they’ll fit._

_Tell Shera I wanted so badly to hold the baby, I wanted so badly to be there. But it looks like you’ll have to be strong for me again, Cid. Thank you._

:

Denzel goes missing, just as his geostigma seems so much better and halted, just as Tifa managed to will the whole flower coughing back to every three days instead of every other day.

She and Marlene go looking for him, and Tifa, when she needs it most, her body falters under the disease of Hanahaki.

Loz beats her to the ground and all she can think is that she’s failed.

:

_Marlene and Denzel,_

_Words can’t express how much I love you two. I fought. I fought so hard to stay, to spend as much time with you as I could. When my mother died, I blamed her for a while, I blamed myself too. I thought that if I was a better daughter, she could have talked to me more, she could have lived. I blamed my father, I thought he had killed her somehow. She died hating him and I never knew why. I didn’t know what he did to make her so angry._

_But please don’t think that about me or yourselves or Cloud. Cloud has always treated me well and I don’t think my Hanahaki has anything to do with what’s unspoken to him. He knows how I feel._

_There are just some feelings that adults are afraid to express… some that they don’t even_ know _how to express. I think that’s me. I spent so much time bottling up how I felt that I don’t know which feelings are which, which ones were causing the thorns in my heart to bloom._

_I don’t blame you or Cloud or anyone. I love you all so much and I would do anything for you. I wish I could have seen you both grow up, I wish I could have gone to all your birthdays and weddings and graduations and more. I wish I could always hold you close beside me._

_But I can’t do that. You both have to live happy lives. I don’t want to see you in the lifestream for a long, long time. I want you both to tell me all your adventures and then I’ll introduce you to your Aunt Aerith and we’ll all have a nice long hug._

_But never ever doubt that I fought for you both or that I love you._

_I love you both so much._

In fine print, underneath the letter, Tifa leaves them all her savings.

:

“You’re late.”

Even after all this time, he looks so beautiful.

She’s glad she got to see him one last time.

:

She can’t bring herself to be upset that Cloud hid his geostigma from her. That would be hypocritical. But Tifa hasn’t hit Stage 4 yet, she has no intentions to, so she’s told no one. Cloud, however… he could _die_ at this rate, with all the doubt inside him…

Tifa can’t let that happen. There _has_ to be a cure.

“We need to find Marlene and Denzel,” she tells him, skipping past the questions and accusations. Their kids are more important. They can focus on a cure right after. And if geostigma _is_ related to Jenova, then that’s a good place to start for finding a cure.

“I…” she can practically feel his heart wavering, “I can’t… I’m not worthy—”

Any other day, any other time, she’d be patient, she’d take the time to comfort him and reassure him that he is worth fighting for. But not now.

“Stop shilly shallying, Cloud, we need to go _now!_ ”

“But your wounds—”

“Rude, Reno, cast regen on me _right now_ or I’ll show you how an injured woman will pulverize you.”

Cloud’s eyes are wide like a child scolded for the first time. “You’re… angry.”

“Our kids are _missing._ One of them is being used to find Jenova. Yes, I’m angry.”

The anger makes her feel more alive, stronger to stall the Hanahaki. Those Sephiroth clones will _pay_.

Cloud stares at her in wonder for a moment, before a familiar resolve returns to his eyes, a resolve she hasn’t seen since they last fought Sephiroth, since his mind was put back together after the Lifestream.

“Right,” he takes the restore materia from Reno. “Let’s mousey.”

:

_Aerith,_

_It feels strange to write to you when maybe I should do a prayer. But I don’t think you’d like that. You don’t seem like the type to like the goddess thing, I think you’d find it hilarious. Just as it’s hilarious that I’m writing to someone in the Lifestream._

_But I need someone to talk to._

_I’ve tried everything I can think of, to get the blooms to stop. I’ve told the mirror that I love him, that I resent him, that I forgive him, that I’m letting go. But still they bloom. I don’t know how to decipher how messed up I am…_

_And it scares me._

_I wish you were here with me, alive. It’s selfish, I know you must be happy in the promised land, with the guy you pined for and without you going to the lifestream, the planet wouldn’t be here today. But I do… I wish you were here because I could use one of your hugs._

_I love you, and even though it’s sooner then I’d like… I’ll see you soon._

:

His back is as warm as ever. When he let her on the back of his bike, he shied away from her touch, clutching at the arm hiding his geostigma.

But Tifa took that hand anyways.

Cloud looked like he wanted to argue, except he must have seen something in Tifa’s face that made him quiet because he pulled her close.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and somehow she knows that it’s for everything, for being afraid, for not sharing his sorrow, for not reaching out, for being late.

“…Me too,” she murmurs into his back. Even with the roar of the engine, Cloud’s enhanced hearing can hear it.

She can feel his muscles growing rigid.

“You of all people have nothing to apologize for Tifa. It’s me. This is _my_ fault.”

“Cloud… sometimes there’s no one to point your sword at. Sometimes there’s no one left to blame. Trust me, I understand why you didn’t pick up your phone. I didn’t like it, I still don’t… but I understand now. Let’s just keep moving forward. Let’s go get our kids.”

He seems like he wants to say more, but like always Cloud’s silence fills the void, and they drive further towards the forbidden city.

:

They fight side by side, reading each other’s movements flawlessly as if they haven’t been separated for months on end. Tifa reads Cloud’s movements, jumping on top of his sword to punch Loz in the face, and Cloud spins her back into his arms so he can parry against Kadaj. In the fight, they’re one.

They get Marlene back. Marlene yells at Cloud before Tifa scolds her… and Edge is attacked by all of Kadaj’s monsters.

Tifa’s blood races with adrenaline, she can feel the flowers scratching eagerly in the back of her throat, wanting to spew out but she has to stay the patient one, she has to be strong.

Just a little longer… she just has to fight a little longer…

:

When the rain falls, Tifa can feel her Aerith’s embrace in the droplets of water. Aerith is there in the water and the air, all around her, healing all the kids, healing Cloud, healing Denzel. Aerith is here, whispering in her ear that she’ll be waiting for Tifa when the time comes. Aerith is there to sadly tell her that even her powers can’t heal Hanahaki, the thoughts of the soul.

Only Tifa can.

But Tifa doesn’t know how.

Her friends all cheer around her, eager to get Tifa’s hugs after months of only hearing her voice on the phone. Cloud turns to smile at her, a _real smile_ , the way he used to when they were kids and he was eager to rush off to SOLDIER.

This should make her happy. She should be _happy_. But she can’t look at anyone in the eye and the burning in her throat hurts so much—

She falls, flowers spilling from her mouth over Aerith’s beloved church. She coughs until she can’t see anymore, until there’s only red, until she thinks she feels Aerith’s gentle hand cradling her hair and she murmurs a sorry for getting the church so dirty and Cloud, Cloud, Cloud, pushing everyone away, holding her, ah—

“…I’m so _tired_.”

That’s the unspoken thing, that’s the secret she buried so deep inside herself she didn’t even recognize it.

She’s tired. And despite everyone’s protests, their screams, she closes her eyes.

:

_Cloud,_

_Despite being a bartender, I’m not good with words, Cloud. I don’t know what to say to make your nightmares go away, to make you smile, to ease your pain. Maybe that’s arrogant of me to think I can help make you feel better. Maybe it’s arrogant of me to think I mean anything at all._

_I know you care for me, and that’s enough._

_I just want you to know that you don’t need to hold the promise so close to you. You don’t need to feel tied down or trapped. I want you to be happy, that’s all I want, even if that means you go far away, if you meet someone else. I just hope you drop by to visit Marlene and Denzel, to give them good memories. I hope you help Barret take care of them._

_I don’t want you to feel guilty. There was nothing you could have done. I should have told you but I didn’t want to put another burden on you to tie you down._

_I love you. I love all of you. Even when it was painful, Cloud Strife, I loved you for being you._

_Thank you for giving my life meaning._

_Please, Cloud, be happy._

_Yours,_

_Tifa_


	3. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you SO much for supporting this fic. You don't know how much it means to me. You are all so wonderful. I hope you like the ending. Thank you for staying with me till the end. I'm taking another break, for about 1 or 2 weeks before I post my last three fics for TifaWeek because my Day 4 fic is a super long monster that needs more time to be finished and I like being able to post such quick updates for you all, so I will finish those stories first before I post them. All the best to you all, stay safe and stay kind!

_The strange thing about human beings and forgiveness… is that they have to let themselves be forgiven to heal. Isn’t that so ironic, that humans are so afraid to accept the very thing that can save them?_

-Excerpts from the medical research journal of Doctor Tessa Syun during the search for a cure to Hanahaki Disease

:

She wakes up in a hospital, her throat strangely empty in a way it hasn’t been for months. Her chest still feels numb and painful… but it’s lighter than before, as if a burden has been slightly lifted and everything feels less heavy.

Tifa wants to laugh at herself. ‘ _I’m tired_.’ Was that really the feeling deep down that she couldn’t express? How pathetic of her to hold that in when so many others suffer more. She tries not to cry. While the blooms in her throat are gone, she still feels the phantom pains there, she still coughs despite no petals crawling from her heart.

By her side, she hears a clatter, then something warm tugging away from her hands, and Tifa blinks as she sees Cloud’s hair come into view and a fallen metal chair on the floor.

“Tifa!” his eyes are bloodshot, his hair dull and unkempt, his lips dry. “Don’t sit up! I’ll help you. Do you need water? More blankets?”

She tries speaking, but only a rasp breathes out.

Scrambling to his feet, Cloud grabs the nearest cup and fills it with water.

He brings the glass gently to her lips, cradling the back of her head the way he did that night under the Highwind, and Tifa feels a painful twinge in her heart, like her thorns have pressed deeper within.

“…Thank you,” she manages to say when she’s had enough.

Cloud’s mouth goes into a thin line, like he wants to say something, his fingers twitch against the glass, but he sets it roughly on a metal tray before he sets the chair back up and sits back next to her. His shoulders hunch together, he looks at once too small and too hardened to reach.

“…It wasn’t your fa—”

“Don’t say that,” he whispers gruffly, “ _please_ , don’t say that.”

Somehow that hurts more than if he would have yelled at her. “Cloud, please,” she wanted to avoid this so badly, “I was going to tell you when I saw you next, I’m sorry—”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing!” he snaps, then hisses at himself, closes his eyes and breathes in. “I’m doing this wrong,” he says quieter, “I meant to tell you how I feel… but I’m always running away, and _you_ had to pay for my cowardice…”

“What happened to me has nothing to do with you—”

“But it sure added to it!”

Her heart twists again, the thorns digging deeper. “Cloud—”

“I just don’t understand how you can say you love me, when I put you through this. Why aren’t you mad at me? _Why_.”

Tifa freezes. “You read my will.”

His face is blank, but it’s his eyes that give away the truth with the way they tremble. “Yuffie found it when she went into your room to get you new clothes. She showed all of us.”

“…You…” she lies back against the pillows, wanting to bury herself in them, “you weren’t meant to see that…”

She put them all through something awful, something unforgiveable. She had hoped the letters would never be read, that she’d pull through. And she _did_ pull through, the Stage 4 has retreated somehow… though Tifa still feels weak. She wonders if she’ll end up coughing petals again, if she’s in Stage 3 or 2.

“Then when was I ever going to find out?”

This time Tifa does turn her face into the pillow. “…I was going to tell you if I saw you next…” She’d hoped that maybe telling Cloud she loved him would cure her. Turns out she just had pathetic complaints and ugly thoughts inside, she wonders how any of her friends will be able to look at her again. _‘I’m tired.’_ The truth of it echoes nastily in her head.

“…And I was going to die by myself, hoping you’d move on… I damned us both,” Cloud whispers.

 _He’s going to leave again,_ the thorns twist up into her lungs. _I’m so tired._

Ah, Tifa refuses to cry for this. She’ll survive without him. She has to, for her kids.

The doors burst open as a flood of their friends tumble through the doorway, looking upset and relieved.

“Spikey,” Barret storms in, “we need to talk, _now_.”

He drags Cloud by the cuff of his shirt, as Yuffie jumps on top of Tifa in wailing tears, “Oh my stars, we thought you were a _goner,_ Tifa! Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?! You and Cloud, I swear to all that is holy, you’re going to kill us all! When the doc said you were almost at Stage 4, do you know how upset I was?! And you were going to give me _your fighting gloves?!_ You’re not allowed to do that, okay?! Even if they’re really really nice gloves with really nice materia!”

Nanaki doesn’t help, practically on top of Tifa’s lap with tearful eyes, “I can’t take your mother’s earrings, Tifa, I just can’t. Please don’t die by yourself again.”

“Damn kids giving old folks a heart attack with their damn diseases, you’re still _young_!” Cid growls, hiding a tear in his eyes, but refusing to take his hand off her shoulder. “Shera won’t accept that blanket until you give it to her in person, missy, so heal up and whenever that Cloud gives you trouble, call us. We’ll set him straight.”

Marlene and Denzel squeeze in under Yuffie and Nanaki, refusing to pry themselves away from her side. Their eyes are just as red and puffy but they both look happy and free of geostigma so she can bear this, she _can_ —

“Tifa I don’t want to go home if you’re not there. Papa won’t smile as wide anymore, it will just be too painful. You’re our Tifa, you can’t go!”

Denzel clenches Tifa’s hospital gown and nods in agreement. “I’ll do all my chores, and tell you every day I love you, I’ll make the flowers go away, just stay. _Please_. You don’t have to fight alone.”

Even Vincent looks upset, as upset as he can for Vincent, his brow furrowed in anger. “You’re not allowed to die in silence, Tifa Lockhart. You’re too important to too many. We’ve already lost so much.”

Reeve and Cait Sith, standing beside him, nod. “You’re a light to many lives, Tifa. We won’t let you go without a fight.”

“Everyone… but I…”

“Just shut up, and let us hug you,” Yuffie scowls. “If anyone needs a break and a hug, it’s _you_.”

Tifa’s throat wells up, not with petals, but the urge to cry. She feels someone gentle cradling her head.

‘ _Just accept it,_ ’ she hears her dear friend whisper, ‘ _we love you_.’

Her friends all move in for a group hug, tugging in Vincent and Reeve, holding her tight. Even Aerith, not visible at all, seems to feel so present, so warm.

For a moment, Tifa feels full. She’s not tired at all.

:

The tired numbness returns when her doctor walks in and explains that Tifa may have passed the lethal zone for Hanahaki but she may relapse at any moment. She’s under orders to take it easy for the next three months, lest her Hanahaki disease blossom back into Stage 4.

“It’s a tricky period for you right now, emotions are running high and you still haven’t articulated the specifics of how you feel. You need to be surrounded by the people who care for you, so you can be stabilized back to Stage 2. And hopefully… Stage 1 someday.”

“…The specifics of how I feel?”

The doctor stares at her sternly. “The unspoken feeling you had to say was ‘I’m tired’ but do you know _why_ you feel this way? Why that was so hard for you to express? Until you know more about the ‘why,’ it’s important that you’re monitored and cared for.”

Tifa nods in her wheelchair (recommended because of her shaky limbs, a symptom that will remain for the next few weeks) though her brow furrows. She had hoped this would be the end of it… now she’ll have to temporarily close the bar, maybe ask Elmyra or Barret to look after the kids while she recovers. She was hoping her savings could go towards Marlene and Denzel, but now she’ll have to budget and figure out how to use them for her recovery—

“You’ll have to return to the hospital at least once a week to speak to me about how you’re recovering until we feel that you’re no longer in the danger zone. Do you have anyone who can watch over you during this time?”

Biting her lip, Tifa ponders her options. She’d rather not burden any of her friends with this. Shera and Cid would be happy to have her, but they’re preparing for the baby… Barret will have his hands full with the kids. She’s not about to ask Yuffie or Vincent with how busy they are. Reeve needs to focus on running the WRO. Perhaps Nanaki and Elmyra will look after her. She hasn’t seen Cosmo Canyon in so long…

“Maybe one of my friends, Nanaki and Bugen. I’ll have to ask them—”

The door swings open. “I’ll do it,” Cloud walks in, a determined glint in his eyes, Barret following afterwards. No doubt, they were listening in.

“Cloud,” Tifa’s eyes go wide. “I don’t want to trouble—”

“It’s no trouble,” he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument, with a focus that Tifa’s really only seen him give to battle or maintaining his bike. “I’ll take care of you.”

“But I—”

“Tifa… _please_ ,” the blue in his eyes are like a stormy ocean trying to reach the sky, so desperate and wild and tender. When he says her name like that Tifa can’t bear to disagree.

“…Alright.”

He moves behind her, hands on the handles of her wheelchair. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

The doctor glances between them frantically, wondering if he should interfere, when Barret towers over them all.

“Let me talk to her first, Spikey,” Barret growls, “I got things I need to tell her.”

She can practically feel Cloud glowering behind her.

“Oh shove off, Spikey, I’m not going to hurt her. I’m the last person who would do that. Just give me _five minutes_ and remember what you promised me.”

Another tense moment passes between them both, before Cloud grumbles, “I’ll be at the door,” and marches off, leaving the door slightly ajar in case of trouble.

“I’m… just going to give you all some privacy. Miss Lockhart, it was a pleasure as always,” the doctor quickly makes his exit after shoving a bunch of medical paperwork into her hands.

That leaves Barret and Tifa alone.

Tifa can’t stand the silence between them. “Barret, I’m so—”

She’s cut off by him hugging her close to his chest and stifled sobs against her shoulder.

“Barret?!”

“Don’t you—” sob, “dare say you’re s-sorry!”

This big man, who’s always protected her since she was a lost sixteen-year-old in Midgar, is bawling his eyes out against her and she has _no idea what to do_. Tifa’s never seen Barret cry, not once. He’s tender with Marlene, melting like a teddy bear, and he’s always kind to Tifa. But he’s never broken down like this, not even when Dyne died. This is a desperate kind of crying, a relieved kind that screams at the top of its lungs.

When Barret finally pulls away, wiping his eyes, he murmurs, “I’m not gonna say that you should have told me… because I’ve been there. I _know_ what it’s like.”

Tifa’s eyes widen, “You mean…”

“Before I met you, I had Stage 3 Hanahaki and I was freaking out about who would care for Marlene if I croaked… and then you showed up. You gave me another reason to fight Shinra, Teef. You say that I saved you, but it’s always been the opposite, girl. _You_ saved _me_.”

Her breath catches in her throat.

“So don’t think that you’re weak, don’t think that you’re pathetic. Look at me, _I_ had it. Hell, I _know_ Spikey had it when we were off chasing Sephiroth. I get it, more than anyone. So if you need to talk, if you need _anything_ , you can always call me, Tifa. I’m not good at the mushy stuff, but for my girls, I’ll listen.”

 _His girls._ Her and Marlene. Her vision blurs as she tries to hold back tears.

“Aw hell, don’t get all weepy on me now, or _I’ll_ cry.”

“You already did!” Tifa laughs, pulling him in for a kiss on the cheek.

“A real man knows when the right time to cry is,” Barret huffs, trying to hide his own blush. “We all love you, Teef. We’re gonna check up on you every day. Your phone’s gonna be ringing from dawn till dusk, we’ll make sure you’re alright.”

Barret, Tifa thinks, is a wonderful softie. He doesn’t complain once, even as she wipes away her tears with a smile. He understands.

:

Cloud quickly marches into the room and takes the handles of the wheelchair. He and Barret seem to say something to each other with their stares before stiffly nodding at each other, and Cloud whisks Tifa out of the doctor’s office. He walks like a man on a mission, focused on his target, swiftly taking the path with the least amount of tripping hazards. Before Tifa can think about it, Cloud has her paperwork signed with the nearest nurse and then they’re in the parking lot by his bike.

Staring numbly at Fenrir, Tifa almost doesn’t know what to do when Cloud kneels in front of her and wordlessly opens his arms. She glances at his implore eyes in quiet confusion before she realizes that he wants to lift her up onto his bike.

“I can stand up by myself,” she insists, as long as she can lean on something.

Something flickers in Cloud’s eyes. “I know,” he whispers, “but… I want to.”

Tifa’s mouth goes dry at the way he looks at her, as if she’s worth fighting for. She quickly glances away.

“Alright.”

She opens her arms around his shoulders and lets herself enjoy the feeling of him around her, lets herself believe that he’s steady and he won’t disappear.

He lifts her up easily, one arm scooped under her legs, and gently places her on the motorcycle seat. As he lets his arms go, his eyes flicker to her face in resolute concentration, before he nods and folds up the wheelchair to tie in the back.

She laughs a little when Cloud pulls out two helmets, one black and one red like her old boots.

“It’s dangerous…” Cloud mumbles.

“Have you had those helmets the whole time? Since when?”

“…A while.”

Tifa stares in wonder. As far as she knows, until recently, Cloud had planned to die alone from Geostigma if he couldn’t find a cure. If he bought those helmets, it wasn’t recent. Likely, it was before he got sick.

Trying not to overthink the implications, Tifa bows her head down for Cloud to fasten the helmet on her head. His fingertips brush against the sides of her hair, drifting down to the straps by her chin. Carefully, he fastens the straps together so they’re comfortable enough for her to breathe in, then his fingers linger by her chin before he steps back.

Tifa lets out a breath, mind racing in incoherence. That touch meant nothing, Cloud was just being careful with her because of his guilt, that’s all…

“Hold tight,” he says, as he takes a seat in front of her.

“Right…” Tifa tries not to touch him, to just platonically set her hands by his hips. Not touching. Good.

Then Cloud revs up the engine and begins speeding down the street. Tifa yelps, immediately grabbing on to him and holding on. She forgot how fast the highways speed limits could be. She finds herself closing her eyes and burying her face against Cloud’s broad back, trying not to think about how good he feels or how warm.

He’s not hers. She has to let him go.

(The thorns itch again.)

:

When they arrive at Seventh Heaven, Cloud once more carries her off the bike into the wheelchair. He gets the door and then carries her and the chair upstairs to her room. Tifa’s fingers twitch and her stomach twists with guilt at how much he’s doing for her when he should be recovering too…

“How are you feeling?” she asks when he sets her down on the bed, “How’s your arm?”

Cloud quickly uncovers the arm hidden in the single black sleeve. All clear. Smooth. Not a hint of geostigma. Tifa runs her hands down his arm without thinking, just to confirm.

Her shoulders sag. “I’m glad… I’m sorry, Cloud. I should have asked how you were feeling earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says again, brow furrowed.

Then why does Tifa feel so damned guilty?

The silence between them stretches and sticks, like the stench of rotten food that hasn’t been thrown away in days. They haven’t seen each other in so long, that Tifa wonders if they’ll ever find out what it means to feel ‘normal’ around the other or if they’ll always need the threat of some apocalyptic villain to be able to talk to each other.

She just wants to rest.

“I’ll… go make dinner,” Cloud says quickly. “Yuffie dropped off some groceries earlier…”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that!” As far as Tifa knows, the only thing Cloud knows how to make is eggs and bacon. And sometimes toast. Anything else usually tastes off. And burnt.

“I do,” he says like it’s the truth, like it’s some unspoken law that Tifa isn’t aware of, written in his heart, like he… wants to.

Then he leaves without giving her the chance to respond at all.

She can hear his heavy steps in the kitchen and the clanking of pots and pans, running water. Part of Tifa frets, wants to rush downstairs and show him how the stove works, but another part of her is too tired to move.

“Just stop,” she whispers to the thorns in her heart, “I don’t want to go through this again.”

She closes her eyes and tries to sleep.

:

Time is both agonizingly long and terrifyingly short. As Tifa closes her eyes and tries not to think, tries not to focus too much on the little sounds of traffic outside her window or the ticking clock by her bedside table, the door swings open and in walks Cloud holding a tray with a bowl of soup and tea.

“…Thank you,” Tifa accepts the tray, eyeing the colour of the soup tentatively. Not wanting to disappoint Cloud, she quickly dips her spoon in and takes the first bite. The soup is too salty, the carrots not quite well cooked yet and the meat overdone but it’s eatable.

She glances at Cloud and how focused he is on her eating.

“It’s… good. Thank you Cloud.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you just saying that?”

“Well, it’s good for your first try.”

He groans. “I knew it. Too much salt. Let me take it away, I’ll call for some takeout…”

“No, no, I can eat it. It’s still okay,” Tifa stuffs another couple of spoonfuls into her mouth. “See?”

“Too much salt means more health problems. So no,” Cloud swipes at the spoon.

“Stop it, I can still eat—” Tifa stretches her hand away.

The soup spills over her lap and the bedsheets.

“Shit,” Cloud jumps back, taking the bowl and tray away, trying to dab at the soup before it soaks up into the mattress. “ _Shit_ ,” he yelps when the soup leaks onto the floor. “Damn it…”

“It’s okay, Cloud, it’s just soup…”

“No, it’s _not_ okay, I’m supposed to be showing you that I can take care of you but I keep messing up!”

The soup drips further into the floor. With each plop to the floor, Cloud looks more and more vulnerable, like a fish being told he will never be able to fly.

“Cloud…” Tifa’s heart always softens around him, despite the thorns telling her not to. “Why do you think you have to prove yourself? You know I don’t mind if you can’t do everything for me. I can make soup myself. Just give me a few minutes to stack a few chairs together so I can reach the stove—”

“I’m the only one that you didn’t give anything to in your will.”

Tifa’s brow furrows. “I’m… confused. What does that have to do with—”

“I’m the only one you didn’t trust to take care of anything of yours. Not even Denzel and Marlene. You just asked me to check in on them, as if I can’t take custody of them, as if I’m not family…”

“Cloud no! It’s not like that!” Tifa stands up, wobbling on her legs, to reach his shoulder.

“Tifa, you shouldn’t get up!”

She falls into his arms, hands up on his shoulders for support. Any other day, she’d be alarmed and embarrassed, move away before she can make him uncomfortable. But not this moment. Not when she’s been misunderstood.

“You will _always_ be family, Cloud,” Tifa tells him, even if he doesn’t love her the way she loves him. “Of course I trust that you can look after Marlene and Denzel, but I had no idea why you were gone… I didn’t know what you were going through, if you were alive or dead, if you wanted to be with us or not… I left them with Barret because I knew he would be able to take care of them… but I didn’t know where you were at all.”

He gazes down at her, eyes wide in wonder and bewilderment. For a moment, Tifa wonders if she overstepped. She doesn’t know how much he’s recovered from geostigma, maybe she’s being too hard on him (the thorns in her heart itch up and up—)

“I’m sorry, I know you’re going through a lot—”

“No, you’re right. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispers, cradling her carefully. “You were thinking about everyone’s needs and all I could think of was myself again.”

Her heart twists. “You were going through a lot…”

“Please don’t make excuses for me. You’re too kind, Tifa. You should be _angrier_ ,”—she’s too tired to be angry, too glad he’s back to feel upset—“Just _please_ … let me apologize.”

Transfixed by this new steady gaze, the quiet understanding in them that she hasn’t seen since the night under the Highwind, all she can do is nod.

“…I’m sorry for running away when I got ill. I was scared. I didn’t want to die or leave you and the kids, it was unfair. It’s just… I was seeing Sephiroth _everywhere,_ he was trying to tell me to do terrible things, and if you got _hurt_ because of _me,_ I don’t know what I’d do! …I thought if I found a cure, then I could act like I was never sick. Then you’d never know or worry… but you ended up worrying anyways… I should have told you what was happening.”

Pain wells up in Tifa’s throat, the brush of flowers aching for Cloud, for herself.

“Cloud… I _know_. I get it. I know how you felt. I mean, look at me. I got stuck in the hospital and I can’t walk for the next month or so because I didn’t tell anyone I was sick either. I get it. And I don’t blame you for it, now that I know why you left. So please… forgive yourself. I meant what I wrote in my will. I want you to be happy.”

His breath pauses for a moment, before he shakes his head and draws her close. “There you go again…”

“What?” Tifa blinks, his breath huffing again against her hair.

“Putting me before you.”

“I’m not doing that,” she denies.

He pulls back to stare at her.

She stares stubbornly back.

“Fine,” Cloud relents, “If you insist.”

“I do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to let you sleep in my room tonight, since the mattress is ruined. I’ll take the couch.”

He moves to carry her to the other room.

Cloud’s room is untouched. Tifa stopped sweeping it a month ago, unable to make herself hope. From the looks of things, Cloud swept up after he started cooking in the kitchen. She forgot how much being in this room pained her, the photos haunting her on his desk… of her, Cloud, Marlene and Denzel… of their friends together before they went their separate ways… of her and Cloud in front of the new bar…

“Are you… still hungry?” Cloud asks after he sets her down.

“No… no I’m good,” Tifa averts her gaze.

Cloud frowns. “Right, well, I’m going to order some takeout just in case. You need to eat, Tifa.”

“Later…”

She has so much to do later…

His silence is an unhappy one.

“Cloud?” she says suddenly, because she needs him to understand before he inevitably leaves her. “In my will… I did leave you something. You just didn’t read between the lines.”

His eyes go so wide and curious, he’s like a boy trying to solve a puzzle.

“Oh,” he says, when he figures it out.

“Yeah…” she says sadly, “Oh.”

:

The rest of the evening passes by awkwardly, with Cloud doing his best to be an attentive caretaker. He fetches her extra blankets, constantly refills her glass of water and brews tea, he gets the laundry started for her bedsheets, he cleans up the bar, he escorts her to the bathroom (much to her embarrassment.)

It’s… stifling.

She hates that he’s doing this out of guilt and hopes that her recovery will be speedy so he won’t be tied down anymore. Her heart keeps twisting around him, threatening to burst into a gravestone of rotten flowers in his name. If her Hanahaki was caused by heartbreak, she’d be dead by now.

But it’s not… Her Hanahaki is made up of pitiful exhaustion.

(She’s so pathetic.)

(No, stop. She’s stronger than this.)

Cloud frets over her not eating enough of her meals and keeps insisting she eat more. But if Tifa eats more, she’ll throw up. And who knows? Maybe she’ll start throwing up flowers again.

When the night comes, Tifa relaxes, insisting that she’s tired and wants to sleep. Cloud lingers by her bedside, awkward but respectful, before he nods and leaves her be.

She should be sleeping.

But she can’t.

Tifa just thinks of her kids, wonders if they’re okay. She thinks about how many people she’s needlessly worried. She thinks about the thorns itching to crawl back up her throat and _bloom_ those deadly petals but she won’t let them.

Somehow, impossibly, she must sleep, she must pass out.

Her dreams are full of blood. Jesse. Wedge. Biggs, wrapped up in vines as Sector 7 burns. Her father and all her neighbours rising from the grave, poppies blooming out of their eye socket as they reach for her and ask why she couldn’t save them. Aerith drowning in a sea of daisies and all Tifa can do is drown with her. Cloud walking away, each of his steps filled with prickly thorns she cannot cross.

 _Don’t leave me, don’t leave me_.

“Tifa!”

She gasps awake, staring in confusion at Cloud’s face.

His hair tousled in sad little spikes and his eyes are bloodshot, but he’s there.

“I… I’m sorry for waking you…”

His hands rub slow circles along her back. “You were having a nightmare. I had to help.”

Tifa lowers her head, hiding her face behind a curtain of her hair. “I shouldn’t be. Having nightmares, I mean. What do I have to feel so frightened about?”

Slowly, his hand comes up to part her curtain of hair, softly bringing her hair behind her ear.

“…You said you were ‘tired’… before…”

Tifa winces. “Silly, isn’t it? Someone like me… ‘tired’…”

The silence this time is painful, like she’s being forced to swallow thorns and keep them inside her.

“I think…” Cloud says carefully, tentatively bringing his hand to her cheek, “that you’ve had to be strong for a long, long time… since Nibelheim, since Sephiroth… and I think, you’ve been strong so much… that you didn’t realize how tired you are. Of being strong.”

Her breath hitches.

“You joined AVALANCHE… you took care of Marlene… you took care of _me_ … no one asked you if you were okay after Aerith died, or after I left… or after Nibelheim. You’re always saving people, just with your smile, and we… no, _I_ … forgot that you could break too.”

Her lip starts to tremble, her eyes begin to well up. If petals began to fall instead of tears, she’d begin bawling on the spot. “ _Cloud…_ ”

“Tifa…” he says softly, brushing back her hair once more. “It’s okay to break down. It’s okay to let me hold you, I won’t leave. I _promise_ , I won’t leave again.”

That’s when she breaks. Sobs, such ugly and pathetic sobs break out of her, the type of sobs that make the whole body shiver with absolute sadness, with absolute despair. Everything, _everything_ , that she’s kept bottled up, all her insecurities and doubts wave out of her until she’s numb again, until she realizes that Cloud hasn’t let go once, his arms secure around her, his breathing a balm against her throat.

:

In the morning… he’s still there, just holding her. His breaths against her hair and the way his chest moves up and down against hers could rock her back to a land of peaceful dreams. She doesn’t want this moment to stop but she shouldn’t let him spend so much time on her. If he wakes and he looks at her differently, with pity, with trepidation or disgust, she doesn’t think her heart could take it—

Slowly, his eyes flutter open, he looks at her intently. She forgot how much Cloud’s stares always left her mouth dry, left her speechless… almost helpless. He looks at her like she’s worthy of mere existence, like her breaths alone could sustain him.

“What do you need?” he asks quietly.

She almost says ‘nothing. She almost says, ‘it’s fine.’ She almost says, ‘it’s okay.’

But isn’t it okay to be selfish, just a little? Isn’t it okay to be tired? He’s here. He’s _here_. He hasn’t left. He _promised_.

“Just…” she hesitates, “hold me a little longer.”

His arms somehow bring her closer, until she can feel his heartbeat against hers.

“…I’ll hold you for as long as you want,” he murmurs against her hair.

Tifa rests.

:

He makes her soup again after they spend the morning holding each other.

This time… it tastes better.

:

“Isn’t it strange?” Tifa tells her doctor at the end of the first week. “I survived the end of the world, Sephiroth, Nibelheim… and yet when everything’s over, when geostigma was cured, and Sephiroth banished again… I crumbled. All these terrible things happening to me, and I didn’t get Stage 4, not once, until now.”

Her doctor leans forward, elbows on his lap and hands folded neatly. “Is it so strange? Miss Lockhart, you have been through events that could freeze and scar any other person. And in those events, you had to survive, your survival instincts kicked in and you had to be functional because if you weren’t, you’d die. But now that the world is safer, your mind and body, so used to danger… don’t quite know what to do… and now you’re letting yourself feel _everything_. Isn’t it natural, then, that you’d need help?”

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

:

Cloud waits for her in the lobby, frowning as he tries to go through a mechanics magazine. He stands up immediately when the doctor rolls Tifa out in her wheelchair and takes the handles from the doctor quickly.

He nods awkwardly at the doctor in thanks and begins taking Tifa back to the parking lot.

“…Everything go okay?” he asks.

“Yeah… just thinking…”

A pause.

“What are… you thinking about?”

Tifa never thought she’d see the day where Cloud would ask what she’s thinking. He’s always so quiet, wound up. But maybe this incident has made them both aware of how much they don’t say, how much they don’t talk. She knows Cloud sees his own therapist too, once a week, when Vincent and Yuffie come to visit. She knows he’s been struggling with new truths about himself too.

“… He said the same things as you did before. That I’ve been fighting for so long that now that everything’s peaceful… I…” she trails off.

“… Ah,” Cloud says. “Mine said that too.”

Tifa laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “What a pair we make.”

He stops, wheeling the chair around so that he can crouch down on one knee and slowly puts his hand on her cheek. The motion is so sudden and strangely intimate that Tifa’s heart skips a beat. He looks like he’ll swear his whole world to her and more, but she can’t make herself hope for that.

“Hey…” his hand curls back her hair behind her ear. “We’ll figure things out. Together. I promise.”

This time… she believes him.

:

Things get better. Not all at once. But slowly, in waves. Tifa learns to ask Cloud for little things, for his hand to hold and his presence when she sleeps. Tifa learns to tell him her doubts and voice her insecurities. Cloud learns to say what he means before he acts, Cloud learns to cook somewhat. They both smile a little more.

She starts being able to articulate how she feels in front of her doctor and Cloud begins opening up to both her and their friends. All these little things, they make the bad things so much better.

Sometimes they disagree, they don’t communicate well, but they always end up in bed together, sleeping side by side, afraid to let the other go. They never go to bed angry, leaving the fight at the door.

His things begin to migrate to her room and vice versa. Cloud even starts hiring part time help with his delivery business so he can stay home more. He speaks so often of future plans, of visiting Costa Del Sol together with the kids, of going on a trip to visit Wutai and Cosmo Canyon, of getting her a piano to practise on again that Tifa stops being afraid that he’ll leave.

He may not love her like she wants, but he’s here to stay.

And then one day, before her last physiotherapy appointment, Tifa finds an envelope on her desk, addressed to her.

She frowns, seeing Cloud’s name on it.

“Hey Cloud,” she knocks on the door to his office, still relishing the feel of being able to stand on her own two legs, “What’s this?”

“Oh,” he doesn’t look up from his paperwork, cheeks oddly pink. “Just my will. Thought you could check it over. Seems fair, since I saw yours.”

“Ah…” Tifa grips the envelope tight. “I see…”

“You can open it now,” he says quickly. “You should probably open it now.”

Well, since she’s been on ordered bed rest for the past month, she doesn’t have much to do. Might as well open it now.

She ignores the pained twist in her chest and mentally tells her heart to calm down.

The will seems straightforward. Apparently Cloud’s bike will go to Denzel, along with his sword. Marlene will get Cloud’s wolf-ring and ribbon, as well as a lot of materia. Both kids will get all the money in Cloud’s savings if Tifa’s not alive. Their friends will apparently get miscellaneous items that mean something to Cloud. When she finally reaches her name though… she nearly drops the paper.

_To Tifa,_

_I’ve already given you my heart and more. Since we were kids, they’ve always been yours._

_So please, keep staying with me until the end._

_Cloud_

Her hand shakes.

Everything inside of her tells her this is a dream, this is some fantasy that she hasn’t woken up from yet and she’ll be back in reality, buried in Hanahaki petals and unable to fight it.

“Is this… real?” Tifa asks.

Quietly, Cloud looks at her, some part of him hesitant and afraid, before he nods yes.

The will falls from her hands and Tifa walks over to his desk.

Cloud stares up at her, unsure, until Tifa puts her hands on his shoulders and murmurs, “Please. Kiss me.”

His paperwork lies forgotten on the desk as he stands up to pull her in for the kiss of her life.

They don’t leave the office for a very long time.

:

**A Conversation Between Barret and Cloud:**

“Let go of me, I need to get back to Tifa!”

“Sit down and shut up,” Barret glares, “this is about Tifa so you’re going to listen!”

Cloud has no time for this bullshit from Barret when Tifa is in the hospital because of himself and he can’t fix it if he’s in the hallway—

“You need to stop making this about you,” Barret says.

Cloud’s mind stops. “What?!”

“You heard me. We all heard your conversation with the little lady. I know you’ve been through a lot of shit with your geostigma and all, but so has she! You’re cured, she’s still not quite there. She just woke up and hasn’t processed any of her pain and you’re in there making it all about you!”

“I wasn’t… I was just trying to…”

But what _was_ Cloud trying to do?

“Look, you got a good heart, Spike. But you get too wrapped up in your head that you can’t see what other people are feeling. You don’t mean it… but it still hurts them. Tifa’s always watching how other people feel. She always puts them first. She never opens up or asks for help or tells anyone if she’s tired. Even when she’s been through hell, she puts others first. And now that she’s all hurt… she needs someone to do that for her.”

Cloud is silent. “Are you saying that I can’t do that for her?”

“What? Of course you can, you literally threw a hissy fit at anyone who tried to take her from you when she fainted in the church. But you need to keep a clear head. Don’t make this about you. Make it about her. Show her that she can rely on you.”

“Of course, she can rely on me!”

“She knows that in theory, but does she _know_ that?”

Cloud doesn’t have the answer to that question.

“Look,” Barret sighs, “if you can’t do that, if it’s too much for you, then I’ll watch over her. She don’t need to be worrying about you too—”

“ _No!_ ” Panic fills him. “I’m going to take care of her.”

Barret studies him carefully.

“Fine!” He throws up his hands, “But the minute you upset her, I’m coming to Seventh Heaven to set you both straight. She’s given you her heart, Spike. Don’t crush it.”

“I won’t,” he promises.

Barret’s gaze softens. “And if _you_ need to talk Spike… Hell, I’m not good with words, but I’ll listen. Must’a been rough… dealing with geostigma by yourself. Don’t go running off again like that. Don’t keep things bottled up. You’re not alone.”

“I…” He thinks he’s staring to realize that, how much his life is tied to so many others… especially Tifa’s. “I promise. Next time I’m going through something like this… I’ll tell you all.”

“But Tifa first,” Barret bellows.

“Yeah,” Cloud lets himself nod, “Tifa first.”

:

Now that he has her heart, knows that he always has, he won’t let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> My cover art for this fanfiction is [here](https://youlighttheskyart.tumblr.com/post/617927686955909120/the-very-late-tifaweek-entry-for-day-7-because)
> 
> FANART by the wonderful Szajnie [here](https://youlighttheskyart.tumblr.com/post/618143074627059712/youlighttheskyfanfiction-szajnie-quick-fanart)
> 
> FANART by the wonderful Jay [here](https://youlighttheskyfanfiction.tumblr.com/post/618228203953192960/art-submitted-by-jay-hey-hope-im-not-spamming)
> 
> Always happy to get prompts at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/youlightthesky1), my [writing tumblr](http://youlighttheskyfanfiction.tumblr.com/), or my [art tumblr](https://youlighttheskyart.tumblr.com/) I also have a [ pillowfort ](https://www.pillowfort.social/youlighttheskyfanfiction) now where I will put more reflections on my teaching and writing. Aka, what my writing tumblr should have been ahaha


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